“One is always only too pleased to welcome Mr. Bellamy anywhere—anyhow,” he declared. “If apologies are needed at all,” he continued, “it is to our friend and host—Mr. Morrison here. Permit me—Mr. Arthur Morrison—the Honorable David Bellamy! These are Mr. Morrison’s rooms.”
Morrison could do no more than stare. Bellamy, on the contrary, with a little bow came further into the apartment, removing his hat from his head. Lassen glided round behind him, remaining between Bellamy and the heavy curtains. Adolf Kahn moved as though unconsciously in front of the door of the room in which they were.
Bellamy smiled courteously.
“I am afraid,” he said, “that I must not stay for more than a moment. I have a car full of friends below—we are on our way, in fact, to the Covent Garden Ball—and one or two of them, I fear,” he added indulgently, “have already reached that stage of exhilaration which such an entertainment in England seems to demand. They will certainly come and rout me out if I am here much longer. There!” he exclaimed, “you hear that?”
There was the sound of a motor horn from the street below. Streuss, with an oath trembling upon his lips, lifted the blind. There were two motor-cars waiting there—large cars with Limousine bodies, and apparently full of men. After all, it was to be expected. Bellamy was no fool!
“Since we are to lose you, then Mr. Laverick,” Streuss remarked with a gesture of farewell, “let us say good night. The little matter of business which we were discussing can be concluded with your partner.”
Laverick turned toward Zoe. Their eyes met and he read their message of terror.
“You are coming back to your own rooms, Miss Leneveu,” he said. “You must let me offer you my escort.”
She half rose, but in obedience to a gesture from Streuss Morrison moved near to them.
“If you leave me here, Laverick,” he muttered beneath his breath,—“if you leave me to these hounds, do you know what they will do? They will hand me over to the police—they have sworn it!”